


The Becoming

by ThroughPestilencesAndFamines



Series: Spellbound By The Devil [1]
Category: Ghost (Swedish Band)
Genre: F/M, plot heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-16 06:57:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7256980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThroughPestilencesAndFamines/pseuds/ThroughPestilencesAndFamines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The rise of a devil worshipping cult</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Becoming I

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically the backstory of what ist about to happen in the next part of the series
> 
> Besides, no names will be mentioned

The Becoming I  
I stood in front of the mirror and gazed at my reflection. I almost couldn’t stand the sight. I hated to see what had become of me and today everything was worse than ever. We always had problems with certain positions of our band but never like this. Just a few hours ago our lead guitarist had quit again. He had been the fifth or sixth person to fill this position within our band. No one stayed long and I could really understand them. Playing in a band and not knowing your five other colleagues nor traveling with them while on tour didn’t sound too great. Most of them quit after one tour. But this time the guy had the balls to quit right in the middle and we really had an important show up tonight: The first out of three consecutive nights in this old beautiful theater in London. This were supposed to be our biggest rituals up to this date if you exclude the more recent festival shows. And now one missing band member.

Fortunately, Water, our bassist, could play the lead guitar parts, leaving the bass part to be handled by one of our sound technicians. Musically nothing would be missing but our show itself would be lacking one vital organ. I tried to calm myself with the thought that Ghost without this particular Alpha was for the better, but it didn’t work. There was just too much pressure on us. Too much at stake. Luckily, the critics wouldn’t be here today. But tomorrow they’d be there to review our show. Approval by this guys, some of the biggest critics in the business, would open many doors, enable us to grow – become bigger. A negative critique cold inhibit everything we had done in the last six years. I continued staring at my own disgusting reflection, dark thoughts still flooding my mind. 

Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Omega, stop being such a whiner! We have a ritual up in 30 minutes and you still haven’t put your mask on. Everything’s going to be fine. Water’s probably going to be better on lead guitar than every other Alpha ever was. He’ll nail it. You couldn’t stand the last Alpha anyway. Cheer up. We need your energy!” I turned around and had to look down in order to see his eyes behind the mask. Man, Earth was so tiny. “Are you alright?”, he continued nervously. “Yeah, I guess, brother”, I replied. He handed me my mask: “Really?” “Just caught in thoughts. You know, how much these shows will mean to us and I’ve been thinking lately…” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t. And don’t forget: The ritual starts in 30 minutes! We need you stomping harder than ever” He slapped me on the shoulder and left singing: “Stomping queen, young and sweet…”. I had to smile. Somehow he always managed to cheer me up. I turned back to my reflection. The sight somehow amused me. I hadn’t seen a smile on that face in a long time. Not since the day that had changed everything. 

 

A little more than six years ago everything had been fine. I remembered pretty clearly what had happened on the day that changed everything. I had been messing around in the studio in our hometown of Linköping with the man, that was now known as Papa Emeritus II. We had known each other many years, had always shared our passion for music and been in many musical projects together. On this particular day, right after arriving, he showed me this new guitar riff, that was quite different from the stuff we had done recently. “How do you like it?”, he asked me in anticipation. “Dude, that’s some heavy stuff. Where did you get this from?”, I asked. I really liked the retro sound of the riff almost like Sabbath. “Last night, I just had to grab my guitar and it was just there, I can’t stop playing it. I think we should do something with it! Probably nothing for MCC, but who knows!” He was right. 

Before I could reply anything a movement in the corner behind my friend caught my attention. There stood a man I’d never seen before. How did he enter the building? Had he been there all the time? The future Papa must have caught the confused expression on my face: “What’s wrong?” I pointed towards the stranger and somehow recovered the ability to speak: “Excuse me, what are you doing in here? How did you ever get inside of this place?” The stranger simply smiled and walked towards us. His appearance made my hair stand on end. It almost made me shiver. There was something peculiar about him. I just didn’t know what and kept staring. He was wearing a really nice three-piece suit, must have been in his thirties, had a very impressive, yet elegant stature, his jet-black hair in a classy short haircut soothing his rather sharp facial features. Then I caught the disturbing factor: His eyes! They seemed to glow in a reddish, perilous way: “What’s wrong with your...”

He interrupted me: “Good evening, gentlemen! Are you the masterminds behind Magna Carta Cartel?” Despite the urge of wanting to say so many other things that were on my mind, I simply replied: “Yes, sir!” He had this authority surrounding him. His smile grew even wider: “Your music caught my attention. I really enjoy it. You must truly be in love with music, aren’t you?” “Yeah, of course!”, I answered uneasily, not sure, what to make of his compliment. My friend kept quiet, his mouth wide open gazing at the stranger.  
“Both of you seem rather disturbed. I’m deeply sorry for that. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ve been following your musical career for quite a while now. A dear friend of mine introduced me to your music and I fell in love with it. There’s nothing better than honest handwritten music. Sadly, that’s a rarity nowadays. Actually, I wanted to keep my distance to you, but it seems like Dad has other plans in mind for you. That’s why I decided to finally meet you in person. I’m really sorry, but both of you will die soon!” 

“What did you just say?”, my friend had finally got his voice back. “You’ll have to die! You my dear”, he pointed towards me, “have an incurable case of cancer in your spinal cord, while mister-open-mouth will die because of a severe case of cardiac insufficiency. My Fathers plans always seem to extinguish everything I seem to enjoy on this damned planet” “How do you know”, I managed to get out of my mouth. “Oh, I forgot the vital part of my speech!”, he chuckled, “I know because I’m His son. I’m the prince of darkness – the devil and a keen fan of rock music. Just call me Satan or Lucifer. Whatever you like.” He put out his hand and I shook it in an almost catatonic state: “Really?” 

“Yes, of yours. Nobody else could have entered this room without using the door. To come back to your first question: I just appeared here, because I can – because I’m the devil! Look at my eyes!” I did and saw something dark and cruel within them. “You just saw straight into hell, my kingdom, a place where you’ll go if you die and you will die, at least according to my Father. Luckily for you, I have different plans. I’m in desperate need of loyal servants on this earth who’ll spread my message. So I could save the both of you. That’s my offer!” He grabbed into his pocket and fetched a golden coin. “Here!”, and put it in my hand. “I know how you humans are. Go to the doctor and get a clarification on what I said about your physical conditions. Then call me if you want to live. Just hold the coin in your right hand and say my name. I’ll be there.” And with that he just vanished.

After a while I managed to get the shock out of my bones and looked at my friend: “What the hell did just happen?” He returned my look: “Did you really see what he said?” I nodded. “I don’t want to die!”, he said stammering. I took the smaller man in my arms and tried to calm him: “Let’s just go to sleep right now and visit the doctors tomorrow.” I pointed towards the sofas in our studio. I didn’t feel like going home tonight. 

The very next day both of us somehow managed to get a doctor’s appointment. My doctor seemed to be very surprised by the specificity of my medical problem and agreed to get some scans of my spinal cord done. A few hours later I got the confirmation of what the devil had said. My spinal cord was infested with cancer cells. The doctor took some samples in order to specify whether they were curable. The results came three days later: Incurable. I sat in the studio, the results of the sample in my sweaty hands. “We’re dead!”, my friend desperately said. His diagnosis had turned out to be true as well. “No! We’re not! Let’s call him!”, I suggested taking the coin out of my pocket. Sometimes, in retrospect, I wish I hadn’t but I’d be dead now if I hadn’t acted. 

“Hell Satan! Lucifer!” Nothing happened. “This must be a joke!”, my friend commented after a while. I slammed the coin on the table. I stood up, went to the fridge and grabbed a couple of beer: “Let’s get drunk. At least, as long as we can. Cheers!” After three rounds of beer my friend felt asleep his body moving in my direction. As we were sitting on the same sofa I took his head into my lap and started stroking his hair. My mind was empty. I, too, started to doze. 

“Are you kidding me? Calling the devil and then being asleep when he arrives?”, a sharp voice cut through my sleep. He stood in the middle of the room wearing a different suit and his hair not as neatly ordered as last time. “We called you and nothing happened”, I replied. “Don’t you think I might have other things to do than waiting for your call? I was rather busy with some true believers in desperate need for my very personal help.” That explained his messy hair and for the first time in three days a smile almost touched my face. 

“What did the doctors say?” The attemt of a smile vanished. “You’re right with everything you said! Please, help us! Spear us from God’s cruelty!”, my friend said kneeling in front of the devil. I had left the sofa, too, and stared at this scene still standing. The devil grinned: “I will but you have to promise me to never ever say the name of my father again. You’ll become my servants and not His. Do you understand?” We both nodded our heads. “Is there a prize to be paid for or lives?”, I asked. He looked directly in my eyes and with a bittersweet voice he said: “Well, of course. There is always a prize to be paid.”


	2. The Becoming II

The Becoming II  
“Cheer up, it isn’t that bad!” He had taken a beer out of the fridge and had seated himself on the second sofa right across the table. “It’s by far not as bad as being dead and rotting in hell. You’d gain more than actually loose. Trust me!” That still was pretty vague: “Could you please specify that? And how do we even know you aren’t responsible for our condition?” 

He emptied his bottle: “Let’s see… To your second question: I’d never be that cruel, to be honest. Beside I simply do not have the power to end one’s life like that. The only one with such power is my Father. If I wanted to kill somebody I’d do it directly. I’m not a coward who hides in heaven. I neither have the ability to end nor to save one’s life in His fashion. This directly leads me to your first question: The only possible way for me to save you both would be a sort of exchange of services. Basically you’d work for me and therefore I’ll give you the ability to withstand death. I had this vision a long time ago: I always wanted my message spread through music. That’d be your job.”

“And how does playing music about the devil save us?” He rolled his eyes: “Seems like I forgot something again. You wouldn’t be playing as humans. I always had servants on this earth – demons or ghouls, you know. That’s what you’d become. The transformation is a little tricky but I’ve done it before. But to fully commit to this you have to leave your past and your identity behind in order to be reborn as a servants of hell. So no more being the guys from MCC. You’d be anonymous. Do you understand?”

“Does it hurt?”, my friend asked eagerly, all gloom gone. He’d always been obsessed with everything satanic and the prospect of living by becoming a servant of hell while playing music for him must sound like a big win in the lottery. “It’s bearable. Nothing too bad…” What about our lives? What about our families?”, I interrupted him. “If they accept your fate everything will be fine. If they don’t, every memory of you will be erased. It’s their decision. But not now. Now it’s time for your decision! I need you to be as strong as possible for the transformation. So let’s not waste any time. Do you accept?”

“Yes!”, my friend exclaimed without any sign of hesitation. “What about you? You seem undecided. You’ll be able do to almost anything you’re able now. There is no crazy stuff like sucking blood or only going out in the dark involved. Ghouls aren’t that different from human beings. No sacrificing virgins. Beside that you’ll gain great powers. Now, would you please give me your answer.” My friend looked at me pleadingly. I sighed, still twisted, as I’d always been rather skeptical: “Okay! I’ll do it.” I just wanted to live.

And with that the devil left his place on the sofa and clapped his hands: “Before we start I have one last question: Which one of you sang Room 611?” My friend lifted his hand. “Then you will be the singer of this new musical project. We need a voice to seduce the masses. Like yours. Sorry!” He looked at me. “I like your singing, too but it isn’t the right one for my unholy message. But we need your energy on guitar, my future Quintessence. And now, let’s begin.” 

From out of nowhere he retrieved this golden chalice and put it on the table. Seconds later he got a dagger out of his pocket. The blade itself pitch-black. With one swift movement he cut his left palm. A black liquid streamed into the chalice until it was filled almost entirely. He shook his left hand and the bleeding stopped immediately. He lifted the chalice up: “Kneel before me!” Both of us followed the order obediently. “From this day onwards you shall be my loyal servants, honoring my name and spreading my message across the land. Drink from this chalice and rise!” My friend emptied the chalice halfway and handed it over to me. I drank the rest. A burnt taste flooding my mouth. It hurt and the pain started to make its way through my body! Despite that, we rose almost simultaneously. “Please after me: Hell Satan!” We repeated. 

My friend started shaking: “This hurts so bad. Please, make it stop!” He replied: “No, you have to make your way through this!” With that said the devil went to the fridge to fetch another beer, sat himself down on the sofa and continued to observe us. The pain grew stronger by the second. A few minutes later, that seemed like eternity, my friend passed out. I stumbled to the other sofa. Despite the increasing pain I refused to faint. Looking the devil straight in the eyes, breathing got harder and harder. At the same time, I felt my heartbeat slowing down. I desperately gasped for air. “You’re quite a stubborn fighter! I’ve never seen anybody withstand the pain that long. You’ll be rewarded for that. And now, give in. Let your life go!” While saying this, he had come closer and knelt down in front of me. His hand touched my cheek. Our eyes still hadn’t broken contact. “You’ll live. I promise. But first you have to die!”, he chuckled. “You’ll be reborn!” In shock, I felt my heartbeat slowing down even more. I didn’t even notice the pain anymore. I was beyond pain. My vision got blurry. Everything got black. My heart had stopped beating.


	3. The Becoming III

The Becoming III  
I opened my eyes. “You’re finally awake! Want some pizza?” My sight moved across the room until I finally found him sitting at the table in the small kitchen unit of the studio. At least we hadn’t changed location, I was still on the sofa and the pain was gone. Beside I wasn’t dead. I stretched my body and made my way through the room. “You know, I wasn’t sure how long it’d take for you to regain conscience and I got rather hungry, so I ordered some pizza. I hope you like it spicy.” “How long was I gone?” “Almost two days. Usually it takes longer. With you it just seemed to have worked quicker. Here, serve yourself!” He pushed the pizza in my direction as I seated myself next to him. I was about to grab a slice when something unusual caught my attention. 

“What the hell happened to me?” I stared at my own arms at the pale greyish, yet scarred skin. The veins shining through in black. Before he could say anything I stormed into the bathroom stopping in front of the mirror. The reflection I saw made my stomach turn around. Gone was the view that I was used to. My hands, the only parts of my body I’d spotted so far that had almost maintained their original color and texture except being a bit paler than they used to, touched the scar tissue that covered my entire face. “That’s how all my servants look. You’ll get used to it”, a voice beside me spoke. “To be honest most look way worse. You still have your hair, your eyes and your hands look okay.” He was kind of right. My dark blond hair and beard hadn’t changed and the deep blue eyes were still as big and blue as they used to be. “I can’t go on the street looking like this. People will think I’m a freak.” While I spoke a pitch-black forked tongue slit out of my mouth. I stepped closer to the mirror and opened my mouth. Everything in there was black except for the milk-white teeth. I forced a smile on my face: “Are they sharpened?” He nodded his head. Hopefully my family would understand this, but I highly doubted that. I looked like a deformed horror movie villain: “At least I don’t look as bad as Freddy Krueger.” He laughed: “That’s right, Quintessence, cheer up! It could have been worse!” 

“How did you call me?” My name is…” I felt pain across my right cheek. I hadn’t moved my sight away from the mirror. While saying my name a rather deep cut had appeared on the scarred tissue of my right cheek, now bleeding heavily. “No, no! That was your name. It’s gone now. Every time you or somebody else says it, you will be punished. It’s a reminder of your new existence. This is your name now! “, and he handed me an ID card. It simply said Omega Quintessence and showed a picture of me in a sort of black cloak and mask covering my entire face with the exception of my eyes. On the backside it said in big letters: Official permission to travel in disguise for artistically reasons. “See, I was rather busy while you were transforming.” “How did you get this?” “I was in Stockholm flirting with this nice young woman at the Citizen Registration Office. It was rather easy to get one of those. Woman usually do what I want for a little treat”, he smiled. “Are we supposed to run around in public dressed like this?”, I pointed towards the picture on the ID. “Yeah, at least masked. You wouldn’t want to scare anybody, Omega or Quintessence. Which one would you prefer?”

“Omega. But why this name and where is… my friend?”, I turned away from my reflection towards the devil. It was the first time that I actually realize that I was bigger than him. How funny. “Before I tell you this, get changed.” He handed me a black bundle of cloths. “When you’ve changed I’d like you to join me in the kitchen. I bet you’re still starving.” I really was. He left the small bathroom and closed the door behind him. I stared in the mirror: Better looking like this than being dead. I sighed and started changing the cloth. The majority of the bundle turned out to be a pair of black pants and a black cassock with a rather large hood and a belt. The bundle, too, contained a black balaclava and the mask I had seen on the ID, but I didn’t put them on. They wouldn’t be useful for eating pizza. My sight returned to the mirror. The cloth must have been tailor-made and fit precisely. And the biggest bonus: They were quite comfortable. I shrugged my shoulders, put my converse back on and left the bathroom. 

He again sat at the table. I joined him and finally grabbed a slice of pizza. “Beer?” He handed one over to me. I really enjoyed the first taste of food and beverage in days. “How do you like the cloths?” I swallowed the piece of pizza that I’d just put in my mouth: “They’re comfortable and fit really well, thank you. When were they made?” “Well, I estimated your measurements. I can’t sew but I’m able to do this.” He snapped his fingers and suddenly his wardrobe changed its colors: “I never liked wearing human fabric. Instead I kind of evoke my own. Your cloths are made out of the same substance as mine. They’re fireproof and never get dirty nor smelly. They’re part of the vision I had in mind about the musical project.” And then he told me the concept of his plan:

“I know that the two of you are kickass songwriters, so this part will be left to you. I rented this flat in Stockholm for you. Just take your time and write some good music. There you’ll be assisted by my loyal servant, who now goes by the name Air. He’ll play the keyboard. You’ll stay there until your first record is finished. By the time you have finished, we will add more musicians fore live performances. Maybe some will join you permanently if they prove to be worthy. The band itself will consist of five instrumentalists, yourself included, called the Nameless Ghouls. You will be known by the names of the ancient alchemical elements. That’s why you are called Quintessence, the element that unifies all the others. I’ll explain the meaning behind the Omega later. Every element has its own special powers. You will lay the musical foundation for the sixth member of the group, your friend. He will seduce the masses with his voice as the satanic antipope. He will be known by the name of Papa Emeritus.”


	4. The Becoming IV

The Becoming IV  
“Where is he?”, I asked anxiously. “I put him in the room with the mixer console. A better place to rest in my opinion. His transformation just turned out to be a bit more complicated thus taking a bit longer. Beside yours was very quick.” “May I see him?”, I asked suspiciously. “Of course, but don’t be scared witless. Something didn’t work out the way I wanted to. So, prepare yourself.” With a bad feeling in my mind I followed him into the room with the mixer console. He was laying motionless in the small bed there that I had occupied before the devil had appeared for the second time. He looked decades older. And not in a good way: Fragile and vulnerable. “Sorry, I wanted him to look, yeah, old. Like one of the popes. The outcome might have been a bit too old, but don’t worry. After the first era of this musical project is over he will be reborn and then I’ll make sure he’ll be younger and more energetic. But besides the age I guess he’ll be fine. Probably needs more sleep than he used to. That’s his burden. The price he has to pay.” I stroke the heavily wrinkled forehead of Papa: “When will he be awake?” 

“I don’t know. He should regain conscience within the next three days. I know, that’s pretty vague. And you know, I’m sorry to tell you but I really have to leave now. There are others in need of my presence”, with that the turned around and left the room. “Wait! You can’t just leave! I have so many questions... What about me? How am supposed to take care of him when I can’t enter the street looking like this to get some stuff? Maybe he’ll be in need of some medicine!” “I already went shopping. Remember: I was busy while you were in limbo. I bought everything you’ll need. Aside from that I know you’ll leave the house. Just don’t forget to put on your mask!”, he turned away. 

I grabbed his arm forcing him to turn back towards me: “You promised to enlighten me on my abilities. I don’t want to do anything stupid or hurt somebody.” “You’re not the person to do such things. But let me tell you: all of my servants defy death and tend to be stronger than they used to be with their senses exceeding those of others. Soon, you’ll find out what you’re capable of. As you represent the element of Quintessence you will be the wisdom of this musical project being able to guide them on their way to the top of the music business. Therefore, you’ll be able to speak quite a few languages and remember way more stuff than others. I think it comes quite in hand with managing, don’t you think so? 

But know let’s focus on the present I promised you for withstanding the pain of your transformation in such a brave manner. Try to move one of the bottles on the kitchen table without touching it.” I looked at him: “That’s impossible!” “No, for you it isn’t anymore. Just focus!” I tried and nothing happened. “Here”, he handed me a pair of huge silver ring: “Put these on. They’ll help you focus your energy.” I put them one on each ring finger and pointed my hands towards the bottle. After a few seconds the bottle really started moving towards me but as it reached the edge of the table instead of flying towards me the bottle just fell on the ground and shattered: “Did I really do that?” His answer was filled with satisfaction: “Yeah, you did that. With a little practice you’ll get better. But there was something else…”

I helped him out:” Was it about my name” He continued:” The reason why you’re called Omega: Your friend has to live with his burden of dying and being reborn every few years until his task is over. Yours is to find your perfect match. Only then this band will be complete. Omegas has to fiend his Alpha. Ying and Yang. Just give in to your temptations and you’ll succeed. Don’t refuse it like you always did. When you’ve found your Alpha a lot of your sorrows will vanish. I can’t tell you more. That’s a task you have to solve by yourself. Bye!” He had just disappeared leaving me to myself.

I decided to focus on another bottle on the table with the same outcome. More to clean! I removed the shards. After I finished I took a look into the fridge: It was filled with fresh stuff. So he had really been shopping. Somehow the thought of the devil standing in line at a supermarket with a bunch of vegetables and a ton of beer amused me. What a healthy diet. I went back to check on my friend. He still hadn’t moved leaving me with nothing left to do but to wait. 

After a few hours of breaking for too much stuff by trying to move it towards me I had this idea and went on to my bag which was lying in a corner of the room. I opened it and fetched my purse to look at all my papers. They’d all been switched and now contained my new name and the masked picture that I’d already seen on my ID. Indeed, the devil had been busy taking care of all the legal matters: “Clever bastard!” Waiting was so boring. I decided to check on the news and grabbed my phone out of the bag. Of course, it had to be charged. I plugged it in and waited. A few minutes later the display blinked: My parents and my brother had tried to call me I don’t know how often. While I was looking at the list of missed phone calls the damned thing started to ring: My mother!


	5. The Becoming V

The Becoming V  
I sighed because I wasn’t in the mood of dealing with my family at this point. But I knew that sooner or later I had to. I accepted the call and immediately felt the pain of more cuts on my body as my mother had screamed the old name several times. “Mom, stop. I’m fine!” Once again I heard her calling my name and another cut appeared. This time above my left eye leaving blood dripping into it, blurring my vision. I fetched a handkerchief and tried to wipe the blood out of my eye. The formerly white handkerchief now soaked with my black blood. I hadn’t heard her last words but soon caught on: “... all of us were so worried because you wouldn’t answer the phone. Then two days ago your doctor called and offered to give you some numbers for pastoral care. We were curious why he’d do such a thing since you never really were a religious person. Then he told us. He was so sorry. Despite everything we want you to know that we will always love you! You will always be a part of our family. Please, come home so we can spend as much of your remaining time together as possible. We already thought you did something foolish. Come home!”

Instead of blood in my left eye, both eyes were now filled with tears: “I can’t come home right now but I promise that I’m fine.” That didn’t soothe her. Not even a bit. “If my son is dying I want to be with him and take care of him. Don’t renounce yourself! We will get through this together! Just come home!”, she craved. “Mom, it isn’t that easy!” But she wouldn’t give in. Ten painful minutes of back and forth on the telephone had brought me to the conclusion that it would probably be the best to be honest to each other and to clear the matter face to face as I knew I couldn’t tell her on the phone about the things I’d done in order to save my life. Maybe it was the best to get behind all of this as fast as possible, even if it meant to never see them again if they wouldn’t understand. 

After I pressed the red button on my phone I took a look at my friend. There wasn’t anything I’d possibly do for him right now. I’d be back soon I promised myself. I changed back to my normal street clothes, put the balaclava and mask on and grabbed my black Metallica jacket and covered my head with its hood. After finally finding the keys of my car in the place I least expected them to be I got out of the studio. Fortunately, I didn’t meet anyone on the way to the car nor did anybody notice a masked guy driving across Linköping. I left my car in the driveway, went to the entrance, took a deep breath and unlocked the door. The noise of me unlocking the door must have alarmed them as I was fiercely embraced by the three people I loved most on this planet. “You’re here! You’re alive!”, my mother cried out. “And I won’t die!”, I added quickly. They loosened the embracement. Only then they realized my masquerade. My brother was the first to ask: “Why are you wearing a mask? And why are you not dying?” He’d always been a very direct person. “I’ll tell you! But I need you to listen very carefully. I’d never lie to you!” So we sat down in the living room and I told them what happened the last few days. While I did their faces filled with astonishment and disbelieve. After I finished silence filled the room.

Finally, my mother spoke: “You’ll live and that’s the most important thing to us! Everything else doesn’t matter” My father nodded his head in approval. He, too, had understood. Relieved I admitted: “I was just so afraid you wouldn’t understand and the devil would take you away from me and erase every memory you had of me.” “And he will if you don’t take this mask of! I want to see you face to face!” My mother demanded, as she’d been asking me to take it of basically since she’d first seen it. “You won’t like it!” She simply replied: “We will accept and love you the way you are. Your appearance won’t change a thing!” So I started the process of uncovering my disfigured, heavily scarred face. The reaction followed immediately:

“Fuck! You look like you were put in this chipper, like the corpse in Fargo, and were then reassembled. But your eyes are still as bright and blue as they used to be!”, my brother chuckled. He never seemed to lose his sense of humor, however, his comment had made me angry. I really didn’t need a comment like this. Somehow I had the urge of choking him. Angrily my hands moved in his direction. But something else happened: A book from the shelf behind him had made its way through the room, flying, and hit him right in the back of the head. I lowered my arms. “My telepathic abilities seemed to have improved”, I thought to myself amused and silently thanked my brother. He stared at me the book in his hands: “How did you do that?” “Don’t mess around with the devil, bro!” My parents both started to laugh. “You shouldn’t tease your older brother. He has enough to process right know and doesn’t need comments like this!”, my mother warned him. 

“But what about all those cuts in your face?”, my father asked while handing me a handkerchief. Every time my parents had used the old name while I explained everything to them I’d been painfully reminded of my burden. I wiped the black blood away: “Every time you use my birth name this happens.” I pointed towards a cut on my forehead. It’s all part of this new identity he wants us to embrace. Just call me Omega. That’s the name he chose for me.” “We’ll try to!”, they all promised. Now most things had been discussed and the conversation drifted towards our usual, happier territories like talking about the Beatles. After dinner I was about to say goodbye: “I have to take care of him. He’s very fragile and needs somebody to look after him.” “And after he’s regained conscience you’ll move to Stockholm to work on music?”, mother asked. I confirmed: “Yeah, at least as far as the devil told me.” 

“So you really met the devil and he saved you! We’re proud to have a son who sold his soul for rock ’n’ roll. Remember, you’ll always have a home and our support! You’ll always be welcomed here!” She put a kiss on my cheek. After that she helped me to get masked again. Both my father and my brother gave me a hug. I knew that they had understood the situation. I left lighthearted knowing that they’d always stand behind me despite what happened.


	6. The Becoming VI

The Becoming VI  
One big thing less to worry about! I’d always known that my parents were very liberate and appreciative, but never like this. Fortunately, I grew up in liberal Sweden. I just couldn’t imagine this happening somewhere within highly religious movements. I don’t know why but I had to think of the Westboro Baptist Church and all those other radicals. Maybe the next time when one of those religious radicals would ring at my door I could show them whom I’d sold my soul to. Somehow this thought amused me. Meeting my parents and my brother and the general outcome had cheered me up. I knew it would take a while for all of us to get used to the situation but at least the first step towards a normal relationship had been made. A highly positive one! 

I made my way through Linköping back to the studio listening to some of my favorite records. On the way some super market signs along the highway caught my attention. I knew what was in the fridge. None of my friends’ favorites. So I decided to go shopping and buy some stuff he actually liked. I felt obliged to do anything in my powers to cheer him up. Plus, meeting my parents had somehow encouraged me to face the problem of being masked in public. I left the car in the parking lot, grabbed a basket at the entrance and entered one of the few grocery markets that were still open at this late hour. I strolled down the aisles until I found the pasta section – his favorite type of food. I tried to remember which ones he liked the most and got lost in thoughts. 

I was brought back to reality when an employee approached, a concerned look on his face: “Mister, is everything alright?” “Yeah, of course!” “I’m really sorry to interrupt your shopping but is there a particular reason for the mask? Other customers seem rather alarmed.” I sighed, some of the gained confidence gone: “I have no intention of stealing nor robbing. I just want to buy some pasta. Here’s my ID. I’m actually allowed to walk around like this. Don’t ask why. It’s complicated.” He took a close look at the ID: “And what do you do? Are you some sort of crazy method actor?” “I’m just a hungry musician in desperate need for some food!” He had to laugh, handed me the ID back and left. I finished my shopping undisturbed except for a skeptical glimpse by the cashier and left the super market. 

I finally got back to the studio and immediately checked on my friend. He still hadn’t moved. I took care of the groceries, somehow proud of myself that I’d been out in public. Of course, it would always be weird to walk around fully masked but at least possible. I wouldn’t be confined to an existence cut off from civilization. I had entered the world of normal human beings faster than expected. Ghouls weren’t that different from human beings. The devil had been right in his assumptions.

I got rid of the mask and tried to do something productive while waiting for my friends to wake up and grabbed my guitar. I ended up playing the riff he’d shown me before all of this happened. It really was a great riff! Some ideas came to my mind and the riff started to grow into something larger. My work was only interrupted by the occasional checks on my friend, some quick cooking, a bit of sleep and a few phone calls with my family. Besides that, I had almost worked one and a half days straight on the riff that now had evolved into a full song. It was early afternoon now and I was thinking about some lyrics based on my personal experiences of the last few days when I had been standing by the abyss of life and he, the devil, had guided me through the darkness back to the light. I was just singing the finished chorus thanking him for saving me, when my phone started to ring again. This time it was not my family. My friends’ mother was the one calling. 

She had said the name! Another deep cut: “I’m so relieved to finally reach somebody! Are you with him? Is he fine? Please, tell me! I can’t stand this any longer. I want to know what’s happening! The doctor… he told me my boy would be… dying!” She paused – obviously crying: “I just can’t believe it! You know, after what happened to his older brother. Please, tell me!” I knew the whole story. He meant everything to her since the day her oldest son had sadly passed away. “Please!”, she craved again urgently. Her heart had already been broken once by a great loss and I honestly did not know when he’d be awake to deal with the matter himself so I did the only thing that appeared to be right in my mind: “Calm down. He’s alright. He’s with me here in the studio!” “May I talk to him?” I sighed: “That’s the problem right now. Just come over as fast as you can and I’ll tell you everything! I promise! I know how much he means to you!” She thanked me. A few moments later the phone was dead. Honestly, I wasn’t too happy to deal with the matter a second time within a few days but it was probably for the better. 

The next 45 minutes I nervously wandered through the studio and tried to clean the place up as best as I could. She should have been here by now. The afternoon traffic must have been particularly bad. Right when I was about to get rid of the last remains of my unsuccessful telepathic abilities – still, since the incident with my brother my skills had improved significantly – the bell rang. I rushed to the door. I didn’t bother masking myself. She’d find out in any case. I opened the door and got a quick glance at her red tear-dimmed eyes before I was caught in her desperate embrace. I padded her back and somehow maneuvered us back in the studio before closing the door. Like her son she really wasn’t that big. I tried my best calming her. After a while she let go and rubbed her already red eyes. It took a moment until her vision cleared up and she realized and another cut appeared: “Is that really you? You’re bleeding!” From somewhere out of my pocket I fetched a handkerchief and whipped the black blood away, this time from my left cheek: “Yeah, it’s really me. I know I look like shit. But before you can see him we need to discuss a few things. It might be better to sit down.”

“You really did that? How long have you been awake?”, she asked after I had finished. Like when I had told my family her reaction mostly consisted of astonishment mixed with disbelief and a bit of shock. “A little more than three days. His transformation seems to be more complex than mine. But please, don’t judge him for what he, or better we, did! He just wanted to live!” She looked straight into my eyes: “I will never do that. He means everything to me. He’s my only child. The only family left! Both of you did the right thing and I’m so glad, you told me and didn’t let me become more and more desperate in my worries about my son! May I see him now?” I sighed: “Yeah, but prepare yourself! He might not be disfigured the way I am…” She interrupted me: “You don’t look that bad.” I laughed: “Don’t lie. I caught your first gaze of me.” A guilty look struck her face. “Don’t feel guilty. You should have seen the look on my own face when I saw my new appearance for the first time. But what I’m trying to say: He looks like somebody forgot Hugh Hefner somewhere in the dungeons of his own mansion.” She laughed: “I don’t think it will be that bad but thanks for your vivid description.”

We entered the separate room with the mixer console. She immediately rushed at his side. Her eyes started to water again. She gently stroked his wrinkled cheek. “Your description was pretty accurate!”, she finally said. After that both of us remained silent while sitting at his side. Honestly, I do not know how long we had been sitting there when he finally moved. If must have been early in the morning. He opened his eyes weakly: “Water, please!” I rushed to the kitchen and immediately returned only to find him shaking in pain: “Did you call him by his name?” “Of course…”, she started to reply. “Please, don’t. Remember, what I told you earlier. In my case it’s causing all those nasty cuts. In his obviously some internal pain.” I waved my hand in front of his face to get his attention. The pain must have been really bad. Mismatched eyes stared into mine. The right one green as it used to be. The other white. Both filled with pain and shock.


	7. The Becoming VII

The Becoming VII  
“Hey, buddy! We’re so glad you’re back with us again! Here’s some water”, after that I helped Papa up a bit and assisted him drinking. He slowly managed to get some of it down. He then sank back in the cushions. “Is that really you?”, he asked me with a tired voice. “Seems like you’re Mister Handsome now! It’s really me. Get your eyes out of my face, you’ve got a visitor!” He had been transfixed on the scars the whole time. Only then I realized that his mother was sitting on the other side of the bed silently: “Hey, mom! Please, tell me I’m the better looking one!” She laughed: “Yes, of course! I’m so glad you’re back with us! How are you feeling?”

“I’m just so tired! I feel so old. I never used to!”, he sighed. With this answer he wasn’t that far from the truth. He needed to know, so I cut the conversation short: “Feeling strong enough to get on your feet? You’ve been in that bed way to long!” Without waiting for a reply I grabbed his arm and guided him into the bathroom: “Fuck! I am old!” His hand touched the bald head: “What is this all about?” After getting him on one of the sofas in the studio I began to explain the plans of the devil for the third time now. “We need to call him soon, since you’re awake now”, with that I finished. 

“Let’s do that later! I’m so tired right now. I need more sleep!”, Papa replied. His mother tried to get up from her place on the sofa: “I’m going home. I shouldn’t be here when he gets you two.” I answered: “That’s true. But on the other hand you shouldn’t drive around being that tired. Get some sleep, too. We’re calling him later.” She fell back on the sofa. Both of them where at sleep very fast. I wasn’t tired at all. I stood up grabbed some blankets and put them over them. After that I grabbed the keys of my car, left and was busy until the late morning hours getting some of our stuff as we would be leaving soon for Stockholm. When I returned they were still asleep. Maybe some food would get their system going and indeed Papa woke up. 

“Did you really cook pasta? You’re the best monster I know”, a sleep-heavy voice said when I’d almost finished. “Just for you, you old bastard!” “What time is it?”, he added. “Early afternoon. I got some of your stuff. Get changed into something fresh before we eat.” He didn’t ask where I got his stuff from. I had pocketed the keys from his mother. I knew they wouldn’t mind. I just wanted to fasten everything up. His mother had just opened her eyes when a freshly bathed and dressed existed the bathroom: “Sorry son, but you look like a clown!” Just imagine your grandfather dressed in torn black jeans, black combat boots, a Morbid Angel shirt and a leather jacket covered with band patches. After lunch she said goodbye: “Remember, you always have a home!”

After she’d left Papa looked me in the eyes: “Thanks Omega, for taking care of everything! I don’t know if I could have told her myself. Everything’s just so surreal!” He gave me a huge. “Before we call him I need you to show something”, I went over to my Gibson Firebird and started to present to him what I had done with his riff. The reaction followed immediately after I’d finished: “That’s fucking beautiful! He really is the shining and the light despite being a huge asshole. The devil will love it! Such kind words! You need to show him” 

And indeed he loved it! “That’s exactly what I had in mind!” He padded my shoulder. “I see you already packed your stuff. Good!” The devil looked at my friend: “You really need some new clothes! Something more elegant and I promise, next time you will be younger! But in my defense, transforming you was harder than I thought. I glad you’re awake now. I only have one last question before we leave: How did they take it?” 

I was the one replying: “Actually, they were very relieved we weren’t dying. So I guess they’ll stand behind what we’re doing in the future. And my brother even wants to meet you and officially sue you for giving me the abilities of letting books fly through the room and crashing them in the back of his head.” To underline that another book flew through the room. He laughed: “Maybe I will. You know how lucky you are. Most of the time that’s not the case and it gets ugly. Once, a servant of mine tried to tell his parents. Afterwards they tried to burn him at the stake and I had to kill a lot of people. I won’t tell you more. But I’m glad everything at home has been settled. I hate dealing with that sort of family matter and all the trouble surrounding it. Now would you please grab everything you intend to take with you.” 

While we did he changed his appearance - now the red horned devil of your nightmares: “It’s easier to travel like that. The only downside of this: humans usually go crazy when they see me like this. Some go mad while some start to kill or fuck everything they see. Luckily, you aren’t. Sometimes I hate Father for that, to be honest. Now, would you please touch me.”


	8. The Becoming VIII

The Becoming VIII  
Moments later, we found ourselves in a pretty nice living room in a downtown apartment of Stockholm: “So this is the place?” “Yeah, I’ll give you a quick tour and introduce you to my dear servant Air. Please, follow me.” I offered Papa my assistance, but he obviously had regained some of energy from the extra sleep and lunch and refused my arm. Despite the appearance his movements seemed quite vivid. After the kitchen and the bathroom, both furnished very tastefully, he showed us the heart of the apartment – the actual studio. It had everything in there you could ever imagine! “Damn, this must have cost quite some money! How could you afford this?” 

“I’m the devil. I have my fingers in many things including some more or less shady businesses. Besides, if someone is spreading my name I want it to sound as best as possible. Don’t get me wrong, I like the music of the most recent wave of enthusiastic followers of my name despite their poor yet raw sound quality. I love Bathory and Emperor. Do you know them?” What a question! He continued: “But for this musical project I want something catchy! Something clerical yet mockingly! Something to seduce the masses and for that you need good equipment and a good sound. If you have any questions about that stuff, Air can handle everything in this room…” Something in the corner caught my attention: “Are these really Gibson RDs? How the hell did you get this?” I’d always wanted to have one, but they’re so hard to get your fingers on. And now, four of them were standing just there. Two in black. Two in white. “I just happened to know the right people. These guitars will perfectly fit the style of the band I had in mind.”

“Wait, what do we even call ourselves? You’re always just talking about some sort of project and vision you have in mind”, Papa interposed. Totally offhand, the devil hadn’t expected this question. He mumbled: “Think about it yourself! Now, do you like the guitars and the rest of the studio? I did my best furnishing this place, since I don’t want my servants to live in the last shithole.” It’s great! I think, we never had better technical and musical resources to record music, honestly!”, I praised him sincerely. Pleased he said: “Well, let’s take a look at your private quarters and then it will be time for me to leave. This is Air’s room.” He pointed towards a door at the end of the corridor. “This is a spare room in case you permanently add more members. And this will be your room.” He opened the door opposite the studio. “Before you even ask: There is a reason why you’ll share this room. Just in case Papas weak old heart should ever stop working, which I hope will never happen, there will be somebody to call me for help. Like everyone, I, too, am not free of any mistakes. I trust in your capability!” He looked at me. 

In this moment someone dressed completely in black, masked and hooded seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. “Papa, Omega, let me introduce you to your fellow ghoul Air!” We firmly shook hands. He didn’t say anything and just stood there gazing at us his hands locked behind his back. Amused the devil added: “I wondered how long it would take for you to show yourself. I already thought I had to drag you out of your room.” He obviously didn’t expect an answer. I could read it in the eyes of Papa. The both of us wanted to know more about the man of ghoul how would be living and recording music with us. “So, where are you from?”, Papa asked Air. No answer. “What is your favorite kind of music?” No answer. “Don’t you want to talk with us or do you even know any Swedish?” No answer. “Can you understand me?” 

“He can understand you. But he won’t talk to you since he’s mute.” I added concerned: “But he can write, can’t he?” The devil shook his head: “Nope, but somehow you’ll figure out his answers. You just have to get to know him properly and in time you’ll know what he likes and wants and so on. Isn’t that true?” This time Air nodded his head slightly. “Just to get you guys started: He’s an avid music fan and likes to play the piano and everything that basically has keys. He enjoys games. What was your favorite again, Monopoly?” He nodded. “Ahh, the game of money and greed. The game of Mammon!”, he smiled: “And concerning dinner: If you want to bring him joy, just buy some raw meat. He’ll prepare it for himself.” He took a look at his watch: “I have to go now. Take your time and write something greater than life about me. I don’t care how long it will take. If you have any problems, you know how to reach me.” I felt the coin heavy in my pocket. “See you and have fun!” He disappeared. 

I stared at Air and his big brown eyes. The only features besides his hands that were visible. Somehow I felt pity for him. A life without proper communication in an era where communication meant everything. Despite my look I still was able to communicate with whoever I wanted to. A few moments later he just turned around and left. The first days together were quite awkward. Days later Papa came to me and said: “We should call the band ‘Ghost’, just like the mysterious way Air seems to appear and disappear every time.” I knew this drove him nuts. “That’s so true. I like the name. Simple and yet very meaningful. It fits the song we had written so far beside ‘He Is’, a song titled ‘Stand by Him’. This were the beginnings of Ghost. A lot had happened since. 

Right when I was thinking about how we got the name of our band, a hand slapped me on the shoulder and once again brought me out of my thoughts straight back to reality: Air, the person I just had thought about, still mute like a fish six years later, stood beside me, my black Gibson RD in his hand. He handed it over to me and pointed towards the clock on the wall above the mirror. It was about time to enter the stage of this beautiful old theater in London, still one band member missing. I thanked Air for reminding me of the time. He disappeared once more. Without him I would have missed the beginning of the show. Maybe Earth was right and I should stop thinking. Life was now and we had a ritual to perform!


End file.
